theism

The Life Dialogue: Matt Moss Guest Post Part 2

This post is the second guest post in my series on the “Life Dialogue” within Christianity. See Part 1 here. See other posts in the series here.

PART 2

Thesis 4– Genesis 1 does not address the specific method that God used in material creation, therefore (given T1-3) no specific answer to the questions of how or when is necessary to salvation.

Walton makes an important distinction between material creation and functional creation. Material creation is what modern debates obsess over. How did the material (the animals and people) get here: did they evolve or were they created or both? When did they come about? A quick reading of Genesis 1:1 – 2:3 shows that good, solid answers to these questions are not given. “In the beginning” is hardly a round number. Even those who attempt to date the earth using the various genealogies of the Bible prove their ignorance of ancient Near Eastern family lists which often “telescope” or skip generations of individuals and focus on the most notable. In other words, no one should think that the genealogy from Adam to Abraham is intended to tell us exactly how old the earth is. That was not the purpose of the genealogy and that is not what the genre allows a modern reader to do either.

Now, as for the “how material was created.” Walton argues very convincingly that Genesis 1 remains silent on this. With our modern biases we immediately object, “how can that be!? It says plainly, ‘and God said let there be light.’” Walton backs up to Gen 1:1 and addresses the Hebrew word bara’ (to create). In our understanding we always attach an ex nihilo understanding onto this word. That alone shows how materially minded we are, we have a very material focused cosmology. Walton first demonstrates that all ancient Near Eastern cosmologies were ‘function’ oriented, not material oriented. This means that the neighbouring creation accounts are concerned with the gods assigning functions to what comes about. How and when was not the question they were asking.

Walton then shows a similar mindset in ancient Israel. Even the word bara’ is a functional word. Walton provides a survey (p. 42) that outlines every use of the verb in the Hebrew Bible. The first thing of note is that God is always the subject. The second thing of note is that it nearly always is used in a functional sense, where God is giving something a specific purpose or function. Let’s look back to that light example. Genesis 1 does not stop with, “And God said let there be light.” No, Genesis 1:3-5 says “‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. 4And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. 5Godcalled the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. (italics mine)”

More than making light is taking place. God is assigning functions to the light and the darkness, he is naming them for their functions! This is seen even more specifically when God creates the Sun and Moon. “Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night. And let them be for signs and for seasons (A more accurate translation is “festivals”- a temple word), and for days and years, 15and let them be lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light upon the earth. (underlining mine)” How and when is not important. Why are they present? That is the question God chose to answer for the people.

Walton does go through these days in detail and then gives brief critiques of the various models out there. The first thing worthy of note is that yom (Day) does mean day… not age. Walton would argue that this hardly seals the deal for Young Earthers since they are completely fixated on material models of creation. Walton seems to take the side that the seven days of Genesis 1 are the seven days in which God assigned all creation its specific function, indeed without function one might hardly say that they exist at all (he uses the analogy of a company- before it is certified it cannot be said to exist even if it has a building and equipment and workers). Thus, Walton, like Genesis 1, remains mute on the hows and whens of material origins before the days when God assigns the functions and Walton sticks with what Genesis 1 does give us, which is the next thesis [coming next week in part 3].

Book Review: “Revelation” by Richard Swinburne

“Revelation: From Metaphor to Analogy” by Richard Swinburne is one of those rare books which forces one to think about and analyze every argument it contains, whether one agrees or disagrees with the conclusions. It addresses claims of revelation. Can it be true that a religion’s books or creeds contain truth?

The book starts off with a section on “Meaning” which analyzes terminology, presupposition, analogy and metaphor, and genre in turn. This section is fantastic reading for the philosopher of religion as it takes some higher notions found in philosophy of language and applies them to religious studies. The chapter on presupposition was the first part I found particularly striking. It is here that Swinburne first begins to lay the groundwork for his overarching argument about the Christian Revelation and Scripture. He argues that presuppositions are not contained in the message conveyed in spoken or written word. He writes, “In order to separate statement from presupposition, we must ask, whatever the speaker’s actual beliefs, are there any common beliefs of the clture presupposed in the utterance which can be siphoned off, leaving what the culture would naturally suppose to be its message intact?” (30). This “siphoning” of meaning is necessary because “[a]lthough speakers may use declarative sentences for many different purposes… the paradigm job of such sentences is to convey information, to ad to the hearer’s stock of beliefs” (29). Swinburne offers the following example to demonstrate his argument. Suppose a Roman historian wrote that “The divine Augustus traveled to Brindisi.” This sentence is not intended to convey the information that Augustus is divine. That Augustus is divine is presupposed by the author of the sentence. Rather, the sentence is intended to tell the reader that Augustus traveled to Brindisi (29). Swinburne also outlines and describes various genres and how they can relate to a religious revelation.

The next part of the book argues for four possible tests to determine whether a divine revelation has occurred. These tests are 1) whether the content is the “kind of thing which God would have chosen to reveal to humans” 2) “whether the method of expression is one to be expected of God,  3) whether “the church has developed the original revelation in a way which plausibly brings out what was involved in it …”, and 4) “whether the interpretations provide the sort of teaching which God would have chosen to give to humans” (107-108). He argues convincingly for each of these tests applying to the Christian Revelation.

The third part of “Revelation” examines the Christian Revelation specifically. Swinburne argues that Jesus and His message were the “original revelation” provided to believers (145ff). It is in his discussion of the Church and the Bible, however, wherein he forwards his most controversial claims.

The Church, argues Swinburne, is responsible for more than simply establishing the canon of Scripture. He argues that the Church has a central place alongside Scripture in the Christian Revelation, for without the church, interpretation could not happen. The creedal statements central to Christian faith may not have been derived had it not been for the Church (see page 189ff). Further, the Church acts as a method for assessing “rival interpretations” of various Scriptural truths (200). It is undeniable that Swinburne advocates the Church as a high authority–perhaps even on a higher level than Scripture, for he argues that many conflicting interpretations of Scripture can receive almost equal footing on Scripture alone, so the Church is required to determine which of these should be approved (again see p. 200 for an example of this). Swinburne’s view of the Church is one of the most important things in this book, in my opinion, for the Christian to read and digest, regardless of whether one agrees or disagrees. For one’s view of the authority of a church body is vastly important with regards to how one views other doctrines. As Swinburne writes, “Which doctrines are to count as central Christian doctrines… depend[s] very much on which ecclesial bodies we judge to be part of the Church. The wider our Church, the fewer such doctrines there will be” (214). This is undoubtedly true, for if one takes only the Roman Catholic Church, for example, as a valid ecclesial body, then one’s net of central Christian doctrines can include everything sanctioned by the Roman Catholics. But let us say that one takes both the Lutheran Church and the Roman Catholic church to be authoritative, or perhaps they take the Orthodox, Roman, and Reformed churches as authoritative. Well then it seems that only those doctrines which all these bodies agree on can be regarded as central, or essential to, true faith. For if one church contains a doctrine which the others do not, it cannot be regarded as absolutely essential if the other churches are still legitimate. If it were essential and the other bodies disagreed, then those other bodies would not be legitimate, by the criterion of not agreeing on an essential Christian doctrine.

This then provides a valuable springboard for thought about central Christian teaching and what doctrines and ecclesial bodies one regards as valid or central. Swinburne’s discussion on this topic cannot be downplayed. He goes into various criteria which can be used to determine whether a Church body is legitimate. These arguments are incredibly in-depth and interesting. His arguments force the reader to consider his ideas.

The Bible is the final major topic Swinburne addresses in “Revelation.” Here we see all the groundwork laid in Part 1 come into play. What do genre, presuppositions, etc. tell us about the meaning and interpretation of Scripture? This section is another which the Christian would do well to ponder. Swinburne argues that we must take Scripture as being entirely true, but he qualifies this claim by arguing we must also realize what Scripture is–a collection of books written with divine approval but by human hands. Thus, he argues, we should take great care to realize the difference between presupposition and message, history and allegory, etc. While I do not agree with Swinburne on every point, I find his insights particularly interesting. He notes that “[t]he falsity of the presuppositions does not, therefore… affect the truth-value of a sentence which uses them” (244). This kind of argument can be of direct worth to the apologist, for example. He utilizes Genesis 8:2(“The fountains of the deep and the windows of the heavens were closed, the rain from the heavens was restrained” ESV) as an example: “The sky has no windows out of which the rain comes, but the quoted sentence is just the author’s way of saying, within the presuppositions of his culture, that the rain ceased” (244-245). This is a different approach apologetically than the one I would tend to favor, which would argue that the word “window” is used here in a metaphorical or analogous way.

Swinburne’s high view of the church is necessary alongside his view of Scripture. Swinburne writes that “The slogan of Protestant confessions , ‘the infallible rule of interpretation of Scripture is the Scripture itself’, is quite hopeless” (255). For it is the Church which determines acceptable interpretations of Scripture.  He writes that “Scripture belongs to the Church” (256). Reading and interpreting Scripture requires a guide. This guide “…is the Church’s theological definitions and other central teaching, its tradition of the proper way to interpret the Bible, and its tradition of how particular passages should be interpreted” (256).

Swinburne’s final chapter seeks to discuss and interpret moral teaching found in Scripture.

Swinburne’s central argument is strong. God has given us a Revelation and has given us the tools to discover what it means. This Revelation is found in Scripture and historically in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ. It is the nuances of Swinburne’s argument which make the book so wonderfully useful. I found myself at times nodding, agreeing with everything Swinburne wrote. At other times I shook my head, jotting rebuttals alongside his text. But the vast majority of the book found me engaged on a new level with topics I thought I had addressed and laid to rest. While I disagree with details of Swinburne’s argument (i.e. he accepts the JEDP view of Scripture, denies the historicity of the person of Jonah, etc.), I found his core arguments compelling. We do need to remember the genre(s) we read as we read Scripture. We need to realize that the ultimate author of Scripture is God, but that Scripture was written within a set of presuppositions distinct from our own.

Swinburne’s analysis of the authority of the church was equally compelling. While he holds a higher view of church authority than I do, his view intertwines the Church with Scripture in compelling ways which absolutely must be considered.

It has been over a month since I finished this work by Swinburne, yet I have found myself consistently turning back to it, and even while writing this review, I found myself contemplating his arguments and drawing truths from him while still disagreeing with him on other areas. I reiterate that I find this work absolutely essential reading for the Christian philosopher. It will challenge and reward the reader in ways that may be entirely unexpected.

Source:

Swinburne, Richard. Revelation: From Metaphor to Analogy. 2nd Edition. Oxford. 2007.

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God and Logical Priority

Logical priority, broadly defined, is the way things are ontologically ordered. That is, to say that for two factors, x and y, x is logically prior to y if and only if x takes precedence over y. An example could be to use miracles and God (note this is just for the sake of example, I realize that some would argue miracles can exist without God, but I’m simply using it as an illustration). The existence of God is logically prior to miracles in the sense that if God does not exist, then miracles do not. In this case, God would be x, while miracles would be y. In order for y to be the case, x must also be the case, thus making x logically prior to y.

So what does this have to do with God? Very much, I would say. For one of the most common objections to the existence of God is that there is no (or not enough) scientific evidence to demonstrate God’s existence. I have addressed such objections before, but now I would like to take a completely different approach. That is, I believe that the existence of God is logically prior to the question of scientific evidence.

The reason I take the existence of God to be logically prior to scientific evidence is be cause logic is prior to science. Take the case of necessity, for example, and combine it with the case of scientific laws. Now, in science, a law is generally something like “if x occurs, then y will occur.” But it is not the case that such laws operate on a logically necessary level. For it is not the case that “Necessarily, If x occurs, then y will occur” (or, □(x⊃y) for those who enjoy ‘logic-ese’). It is simply the case that this is what happens in all observed cases. It could even (possibly, but not modally) be said that “If x occurs, then, necessarily y will occur” (again, logic-ese: x⊃□y), but this does not establish logical necessity in the modal and broader sense.

The type of necessity which can therefore be ascribed to scientific laws is a contingent or “accidental” necessity. They operate in a necessary sense in that in this world (out of all possible worlds) it is the case that if x then y, but they do not operate necessarily in the sense that in every possible worlds it is the case that “if x then y.”

Logical necessity, however, is prior to this. For, on logical necessity, that which is necessary is necessary in all possible worlds. Logical necessity is the very thing which scientific necessity lacks.

Again, we may ask, what does this have to do with God? Well, if it is the case that it can be demonstrated that God exists out of logical necessity, then the question of scientific evidence is irrelevant. For logical necessity is prior to scientific necessity. This is not to say that scientific evidence is not useful when exploring the “God question”, if you will, but it is to say that if it can be demonstrated that God is logically necessary, then demands for scientific evidence to demonstrate or even make probable the existence of God are misplaced. For if God is logically necessary, then to deny the existence of God is incoherent in the strong sense (that is, it is illogical). The logical demonstration would be prior to and therefore supersede the scientific evidence or lack thereof (I believe that there are at least some reasons scientifically to believe God exists, but that is off topic).

But then, we must ask, can it be demonstrated that God is logically necessary? Well yes, I believe so. I have argued this at length elsewhere, so I won’t reiterate it (see here). If any of these arguments are sound (as I believe they are), then the question of scientific evidence for God’s existence is simply a non-factor. Certainly, the scientific (and other) evidences may be seen  as providing further justification for believing that God exists, but if it is the case that the arguments for God’s logical necessity are sound, then such arguments are the only tools needed to defend the claim that God exists. Further, to dispute such a claim (that is, God’s existence) would be incoherent in the strongest possible sense.

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God and Moral Obligation, or Euthyphro, rethought

Euthyphro’s dilemma is so frequently discussed in philosophy that I don’t see a need to thoroughly present it. The horns, however, are going to be the topic of this post, so I’ll outline them below:

It seems that if God makes commands which create moral duties for humans (and others), then there may only be two options for the theist:

1) We ought to do what God commands because God commands it (and thus he could have commanded any random thing to be dutiful–i.e. torturing cute rabbits)

or

2) God commands us to do things because they are what we ought to do (and therefore there is some standard to which even God answers–see Richard Swinburne’s Revelation for an interesting description of a potential way around this problem)

If these are the only two options, it seems as though theists are in an uncomfortable position indeed! Normally, most theists would attack one of the horns of the dilemma or hit between the horns and find a way out. The late William Alston, however, ingeniously argues in Divine Nature and Human Language that the theist can accept both horns of the dilemma, albeit with some interpretation (DNHL 255).

The most important part of Alston’s solution is to assume that God is perfectly good essentially, that is, necessarily, God is perfectly good (257). In other words, God cannot perform a morally imperfect action. Alston makes no argument for this position, though I think that Stephen Parrish argues this rather well in God and Necessity. Regardless, I’m going to follow Alston’s assumption for the presentation of his argument, for now ignoring the potential problems with removing libertarian free will from God.

If it is the case that God is essentially perfectly good, then moral “oughtness” words such as “required”, “forbidden”, “duty”, etc. do not apply to God. This is because these terms “apply to a being only if that being has a choice between doing or failing to do what it ought to do” (257). But if God cannot fail to do good, then  His own nature “prevents him from acting freely in a way that is required for moral obligation… it is metaphysically impossible that God should do anything that is less than supremely good” (257). But then this means that horn 1 of the dilemma serves as no problem–God can not order things which would be arbitrarily evil, but it also means horn 2 is no problem either–God is not restricted by any “ought” statements.

Further, implicit in the dilemma is the idea that some form of Platonism is correct, that is, there are some objective morals as ideas somewhere. But again the theist can adapt this to theism and say that instead of some morals that just exist of necessity on their own (though again see Swinburne, Revelation for a defense of this very idea of theistic morality), God Himself is the “supreme standard of goodness. God plays the role in evaluation that is… assigned… to Platonic Ideas or principles” (268). Moral obligations are what we ought to do (horn 2 of the dilemma) because they are features of God (269).

Therefore, by accepting that God is essentially perfectly good, and further supposing that God Himself is the standard for goodness, the theist can accept the horns of the dilemma while arguing that they don’t really serve as objections to theism as classically supposed. God, having no “ought” statements apply to him, cannot be the subject of 2), while his very existence as essentially perfectly good means that 1) cannot apply to him either.

Sources:

Alston, William P. Divine Nature and Human Language. Cornell University Press. 1989.

Parrish, Stephen. God and Necessity. University Press of America. 2001.

Swinburne, Richard. Revelation. Oxford University Press. 2007.

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The Life Dialogue: Theistic Evolution 3

This is part of a series of posts on the “Life Dialogue” within Christianity. Check out other posts in the series here.

Theistic Evolution’s (hereafter TE) primary problem for the Christian is, of course, theological in nature. Perhaps the greatest challenge to TE is the doctrine of original sin. Recently, I investigated what advocates of TE had to say about this doctrine.

Robin Collins argues in his essay “Evolution and Original Sin” that the doctrine of original sin should be redefined into what he calls the “historical ideal” (HI) view (469). Regrettably, I believe Collins fails to provide an adequate theological defense of his view. Further, I believe there is actually a stronger way for TEs to defend against the “problem” of original sin. Collins’ argument has several key features:

1) Adam and Eve were not historical figures, but rather representatives of early mankind, having evolved from hominids (470). Collins does allow that perhaps Adam represents the “stem father” of humanity–that is, representing the first group of early hominids which arose as the human race (486)

2) The Garden story “represents an ideal state that was never realized… Genesis 2 falls into the category of a ‘golden age’ story” (470)

3) Original sin refers to the “sinful choices” of early hominids, the “continuing sinful choices” of their ancestors, and “the resulting bondage to sin and spiritual darkness that is inherited from our ancestors and generated by our own choices” (471)

Collins continues by interpreting Scripture in this light. First it should be noted that Collins takes science as one of the means by which we can interpret Scripture, despite his own assertions that the Bible is not a science or philosophy book (compare 475 to 482ff). He begins by interpreting Romans 1:18-32, but he believes the more important verses are in Romans 5:15-19. Paul writes in Romans 5 that:

“For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Again, the gift of God is not like the result of the one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ. Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.”

These passages seem to suggest that Adam was indeed one man, just as Jesus is one man. Collins argues, utilizing Swinburne’s argumentation in Revelation, that a speaker’s message does not necessarily include the presuppositions as part of the intentional conveyance. One immediate problem with this (though Collins seems to view it as a bonus) is that Paul is seen as either not necessarily believing what he was saying–which seems unlikely–or he was profoundly mistaken in his presuppositions. The statement is to be distinguished from the presupposition. “The statement is whatever the speaker, by public criteria, is seeking to add to the existing beliefs of the hearers” (Swinburne, Revelation, 30). The problem is that I don’t think this argument applies here, for it seems that Paul is not just presupposing that there is one man, but also utilizing that presupposition as part of what he is seeking to add to his hearers’ existing belief. For Paul is saying that it is one man through whom all mankind fell, so, too, is it one man through whom all mankind is saved.

The argument that Paul and his hearers shared the presupposition of one man, and therefore this is not part of his intended message, misses the context of Paul’s message. For Paul makes this statement in his letter to the Romans, not to fellow Jews who shared his presuppositions! Therefore, it seems to me that although the “one man” part of the statement could be taken as a Pauline presupposition, it is also part of the message conveyed. He is intending to add to his hearer’s existing belief (borrowing from Swinburne’s phrasing) that one man fell for all and one man atoned for all. This message is almost vacuous on an account which inserts possibly thousands of hominids in for the first “one man” (something Collins has no hesitation doing, see page 481 “…understand Adam… as theologically representing both everyman and the very first members of the evolving group of hominids that had gained moral self-consciousness”). I see no reason to accept such an interpretation textually.

I’ll leave out Collins’ interpretation of Genesis 1-4 for now, as I believe summing it up in the above points is sufficient. Rather, I want to turn now to an evaluation of his argument. First, I note that it seems necessary to add to the above outline of Collins argument the following clause:

4) Scripture is not inerrant–it is inspired in the sense that God “enlighten[s]” humans to “grasp new truths about the nature of reality and God” (473)

I reject 4 as incompatible with sound formulation of doctrine. I’ll not specifically address his argument point-by-point as that would fill up too much space. The main problem with Collins’ account of original sin is that it trivializes certain Bible passages (notably Psalm 51:5) and misinterprets others. But I don’t want to get into the finer details of his account. I think that Collins’ account is actually extremely weak. Only those willing to accept point 4) above will be able to take such a view on original sin as possible. Is there a way for TEs to avoid this uncomfortable assumption? I think there is.

Original sin, on TE, can be almost what it is on other views. The key feature is to point out (as Hugh Ross, an Old Earth Creationist does) that it is only human death that is explicitly seen as the consequence of sin. Thus, God can be seen as letting evolution happen until beings capable of moral reasoning evolve, then specially creating souls within humans or setting souls up in such a way that they emerge from humans (the latter view seems less plausible, but I’ll ignore that for now). God chose two specific hominids, planted souls in them, and placed them in a garden. The rest of the Genesis story can be taken fairly literally, with some modifications here and there, and original sin loses no meaning. Thus, the TE needs to acknowledge special creation of 1) The universe/matter/etc. and 2) Human souls. This doesn’t seem like an implausible “out” for the theistic evolutionist.

Finally, I want to address a few minor points in Collins’ essay. The first is that he seems to think special creation is somehow a negative thing. When critiquing other views, for example, he asserts that if God brought Adam and Eve into the garden to speak with them, He’d have to teach them a language, “which would involve a major act of special creation” (493). This is counted as a negative against a sort of Old Earth Creationist account. But I’m then curious as to what Collins thinks of the creation of the universe! Surely this “special creation” is an even more major act than teaching some animals to speak a language! I don’t see any plausible way for a Christian to use the presence of divine action as an argument against other views. Second, Collins seems to reveal some tendencies of agreeing with Intelligent Design (p. 496ff, for example, he argues for “theistically guided evolution”–how does this differ from ID?).

Thus, I think Collins’ view of original sin on TE is actually a weaker argument than that which can be made. I think the theistic evolutionist can augment his/her view with some acts of “special creation” and thus maintain a view that allows for inerrancy of Scripture without having to twist it as much as Collins does. Perhaps, however, I’m merely reflecting my own tendencies rather than accurately representing TE. If this is the case, however, and TE simply cannot coincide with the doctrine of inerrancy, for example, then I find this a strong reason for rejecting TE, particularly in light of competing models like intelligent design or Hugh Ross’s RTB Model.

Sources:

Collins, Robin. “Evolution and Original Sin.” Perspectives on an Evolving Creation. Edited Keith B. Miller. Wm. B. Eerdman’s. 2003.

Swinburne, Richard. Revelation. Oxford University Press. 2007. (A later edition than that cited by Collins, I’m utilizing my own text)

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The “One Step Further” Argument/Phrase

The “one step further” argument/phrase is one that is frequently used by atheists. I hesitate to say it is an “argument” as it would be hard to determine exactly what the argument is asserting. Normally, the phrase/argument is put forth in one of the following ways:

1) We’re all atheists to other religions, we (that is, avowed atheists) just take it “one step further”

2) We’re all atheists

Sometimes it is actually put forth as an argument, following a form something like this:

1. An atheist doesn’t believe in [any] God.

2. Christians don’t believe in Allah, Vishnu, Odin, etc.

3. Therefore, the Christian is an atheist to every other religion.

Or, put more simply. “To other religions, the Christian is an atheist, we just take it one step further.”

The problem with such argumentation is that it is utterly false on a number of levels. The argument form itself has conflation of terms, taking [any] God to be equivalent to all but one God, but that is beside the point. The core problem is calling Christians (and others) atheists! For, necessarily, for any human b, b is either theist (T) or ~T. But Christians are T, therefore they are necessarily ~~T. In English, it is true that any human being is either an atheist or a theist. Christians are theists, therefore, they are necessarily not atheists.

But what of the argument that Christians are atheists to other religions? This is obviously false as well. I am not an atheist to the Muslim, Hindu, Jehovah’s Witness, etc. Rather, I am a theist to them. I believe in a theistic God which is not the same as their theistic/deistic/pantheistic deity. It would be absurd for a Christian to see a Muslim and say “Oh, they’re an atheist!” For the Muslim is clearly not an atheist, rather, he/she is a theist!

But that’s not really addressing the heart of the issue. The real problem here is that the atheist is trying to say that the Christian has used his or her reasoning to come to the conclusion that all other Gods are false. In other words, “You Christians believe in just your God, but you’ve rejected all others. We just take it one step further and reject yours too.”

It seems rather logical at first, but it holds to a few basic assumptions. The first is the assumption that the epistemology of the atheist and Christian are the same. That is, that they are approaching the problem from the same point. This will become more clear when we inspect the second assumption, which is that the supposed reason the Christian has rejected all other faiths is because of lack of empirical evidence. This is the real heart of the matter. The atheist has unfairly assumed that the Christian is approaching things from the same empirical view that he is. He believes the Christian has examined the evidence for other gods and found none, so the Christian rejected them. The atheist then believes that if the Christian would “just look at the evidence” for or against his or her own God, the Christian would reject Christ… or at least the Christian should.

There are a few responses to this. The first is that it simply is not necessarily true. The Christian may have rejected other gods because he or she has personal revelation. He or she may have the self-verification of the Holy Spirit within, and this automatically leads to the rejection of all other faiths (cf. Plantinga, Warranted Christian Belief). He or she may have an entirely different reason to reject other gods–perhaps he/she doesn’t like something trivial about other religions, and rejects them for this reason (which may not be epistemically justified, but it would be if his/her Christian belief has warrant and therefore serves as a defeater for other faiths). The second point is once again that the definitions are bastardized in order to try to play a semantics game with the Christian. By definition, the Christian is not an atheist, so when an atheist claims that the Christian is an atheist, this can be rejected immediately.

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What kind of evidence?

It seems that it is often the case that when I read works from atheists or talk to atheists one primary objection to the existence of God is “There’s not enough evidence.” A question I ask in response is “What kind of evidence?”

For many atheists (generalizing here, and I realize this), the assumption is that the scientific method is the only way to yield truth. But, assuming for the sake of argument that God exists, how would the scientific method show God exists? It seems to me that the scientific method cannot do so. There could be ways to see traces of God’s influence on the natural world (such as Intelligent Design theorists have claimed), but the God of Classical Theism is Spirit–this God is not part of nature, but created nature. Thus, God is transcendent to nature. God can interact with nature, but is, Himself, not nature.

But then there is a quandary. If I take it that the scientific method (hereafter E for empiricism) is the only way to yield truth, then I have no means by which I can even investigate the truth claims of Theism (hereafter T). For E, at best, can only perhaps give traces of T, but these will not be sufficient for evidence of T on their own. Thus, if I take E to be the only way to investigate reality, I am, a priori, ruling out even the possibility of T, for I am ruling out any means by which I could discover T to be true.

So again the question is “What kind of evidence does one want to show God exists?” Sensory experience could be one reasonable demand, but this seems question begging, as Classical Theism generally doesn’t claim that God interacts on such a sensory (i.e. auditory, visual, etc.) level except in extremely special circumstances (as in the Call of Moses, the Call of Elijah, etc.). What kind of evidence would convince someone to believe in God? Perhaps we could grant that not just E, but also philosophy and logic (hereafter L) are means by which we can yield truth (I believe that this is not an unreasonable suggestion at all, given that science is governed by logic). This opens us up to the possibility of considering arguments for and against the existence of God.

But, at most, L could demonstrate T, but such claims could be ignored, denied, etc. It seems that L could not get one to an understanding of T that would lead to belief. Let’s be honest here, would a good argument really convince anyone that God exists? I sincerely doubt it–for reasons outlined below (and here).

It seems to me that the existence of God necessarily involves one’s will. For if T is true, then the entire world is completely different than it would be if ~T were true. If T is true, then there is a God who created, sustains, and is personally involved with the universe. This includes every person in that universe, every creature, and every object. All of these have their origins in God. But if such a proposal is true, then it seems as though one would have to think, act, and live very differently on T versus ~T. One would be obligated to think about God, to act according to God’s will, and to live daily as though God exists–interacting with God in prayer, praise, thanksgiving, exhortation, etc.

So it seems to me that if T is true, it is not just a matter of seeing enough evidence. I can believe all sorts of things and not have them mean anything to me in actuality. For example, I believe that turtles hatch from eggs. This doesn’t change my behavior. Rather, it is simply factual knowledge. But would that kind of knowledge about God be enough? Let’s say that I have some overwhelming evidence, call it x, that God exists. Is x going to be regarded by me on the same level of the proposition that turtles hatch from eggs? Obviously not, for if x exists, then T is true, and then my entire life should be different. Thus, when asking about evidence, one should realize that such evidence absolutely involves not just belief but also life. Because of this, it seems to me that God could and would make evidence of His existence “purposively available“.

So who is asking for the evidence for God’s existence? Is it someone willing to change his/her life based on the answers? Is it someone who is ruling out the possibility to begin with? Is it someone willing to submit to this God, if this God exists?

Therefore, I return to the question: “What kind of evidence?” and even this question seems to miss the point. Perhaps the answer to the assertion that “There’s not enough evidence to believe in God” or “What evidence is there for belief in God?” should be “Who’s asking?”

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The Life Dialogue: The Interaction of Science and Faith

This is part of a series of posts on the “Life Dialogue” within Christianity. Check out other posts in the series here.

While I’ve explored some of the major perspectives of this debate within Christianity, one element I’ve left untouched is the different approaches people take on the interaction between science and faith.

This interaction can be seen in (at least) four ways:

1) Faith and Science are both accurate and support each other in a mutually beneficial relationship–this view, interestingly enough, is advocated by all sides of the dialogue I’ve explored before: intelligent design, old and young earth creationism, and theistic evolution

2) Faith and Science discuss completely different realms, and as such are both accurate, but independent and non-overlapping–this is often referred to as the “Independence” theory or “Non-Overlapping Magisteria” (check out this post for an interesting exploration of this possibility)

3) Faith and Science are at odds, and we should favor Faith–this view is often advocated by those who feel uncomfortable with scientific discoveries they may feel challenge Christianity and Scripture

4) Faith and Science are at odds, and we should favor Science– this view is often favored by those who believe their religion must “keep up” with current science

Now, it seems to me that 1) should be the favored position by those interested in the interaction between science and faith.

First, 4) seems unacceptable because it endorses giving up truths of Scripture or belief as scientific discoveries emerge. This also means that faith must change as science does. This is not an attack on science; rather, it acknowledges that science can and does often change to correct theories, etc. Take the following hypothetical situation: science advocated some position z which seemed to be in confrontation with doctrine y, but then later science found that z was untenable–instead, it was x which was more likely, and x served as scientific affirmation of y. This convoluted scenario seems problematic for those who endorse 4), for they would give up y at first, but then would they take y as true again once x was advocated?

3) seems equally unacceptable because the opposite scenario would work to show potential absurdities in such a view. On this view, take the following example: science takes position z which serves to support the doctrinal position y, but then new discoveries are made which show that x is really the case, which goes against y. The scientist, however, can run multiple tests that demonstrate beyond a doubt that x is indeed the case. It doesn’t seem to me to be intellectually honest to say that x is not the case. Doctrine y would need to be evaluated Biblically and evaluated to see if it really fit the picture, not only that, but x and z would have to be evaluated Biblically.

2) seems to fare little better. Clearly there are places that science and faith will overlap, as has been demonstrated in this series of posts on the Life Dialogue. It seems as though the advocate of 2) would have to argue that any apparent overlap between science and faith is really just that: apparent. It seems to overlap but in reality it does not. However, the advocate of 2) could simply advance the argument that perhaps these positions do overlap in a sense, but the overlap doesn’t matter, as they are investigating different parts of reality. Faith explores the metaphysical aspects of a situation, x, while science explores the empirical aspects.

So why do I prefer 1)? I take for granted that faith explains reality. The claim, for example, that “God exists” seems to me not only obvious, but demonstrably true. Science also explains reality. Thus, as I accept that both science and faith explain reality, I believe that they must operate in a mutually beneficial way: where one has nothing specific to say, the other takes over, where they both have things to say, the interplay will occur. But I see no reason to deny aspects of faith for science or vice versa. Thus, it seems to me that the Christian doesn’t need to deny science, but neither should he/she deny aspects of her faith.

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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author.

Jesus: A Fact of History

This post is part of a series, “Jesus: The Living God.” See other posts in the series here.

The belief that Jesus existed is, quite simply, historical fact. The historical figure of Jesus is beyond denial. Jesus walked on this planet. There are those who actually deny this fact. They say things about our knowledge of Jesus being derived only from “hearsay” accounts, or that the other historical sources outside the Gospels aren’t reliable because they were written after Jesus died.

What people who try to deny Jesus as a historical fact don’t realize is that we have more evidence for the historicity of Jesus than we do for historical figures such as Alexander the Great. Our sources on Alexander the Great date from sources written utilizing biographical accounts about him. This is hearsay, if that is how those who want to attack the historicity of Jesus want to define such historical accounts. The sources we do have date at least 200 years after Alexander’s death (derived from Green, Alexander the Great and the Hellenistic Age, pp. xxii–xxviii). But according to the “historical standards” set by those who wish to deny that Jesus ever existed, we absolutely must accept that Alexander the Great existed either!

We know of Alexander the Great only through accounts written hundreds of years after his death (scholars date the Gospels to about 70AD–40 years after the death of Jesus [see Blomberg, Craig, The Historical Reliability of the Gospels)! Sure, there are many reasons to think Alexander existed, such as the shape of western civilization, various corroborating evidence, etc… but we have reasons like that to believe Jesus existed too!

The reality is that no serious scholar denies the historicity of Jesus, due not only to the Gospel accounts, but also Josephus, Tacitus, etc. Those who wish to discredit the accounts of the Gospel, Josephus, etc. should realize they should be consistent in their “historiography” and discredit the accounts written about Alexander the Great, not to mention other figures like Attila the Hun, Confucius, etc.! If this is the kind of historical relativism and denial we are forced to embrace due to the denial of the historical Jesus, then almost all ancient history is thrown into question.

The fact of the matter is that the reason people try to deny the historicity of Jesus isn’t due to historical reasons, it’s either due to ignorance about how historiography operates or simply willingness to blatantly deny historical fact.

Recommended reading

Wright, N.T. The Challenge of Jesus, The New Testament and the People of God, Jesus and the Victory of God, and The Resurrection of the Son of God

Blomberg, Craig The Historical Reliability of the Gospels

Strobel, Lee The Case for the Real Jesus and The Case for Christ

Komoszewski, Sawyer, and Wallace Reinventing Jesus

Note that even accounts critical of Jesus do not deny his historicity, cf Crossan, John Historical Jesus or Borg, Marcus Jesus

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Talk About God: Does It Mean Anything?

Can we talk about God in meaningful ways? When we say things like “God is loving”, what do we mean? Is it somehow literal? Can talk about God be literal?

These questions, and many others like them are often asked within philosophy of religion. These types of questions may initially seem trivial. Christians may see such questions and think, “Well, obviously we can speak of God meaningfully! The Bible speaks of God constantly, and it has meaning, so clearly such talk has meaning!” There are, however, some rather strong objections to such notions.

Take the statement “God is wise.” What does this mean? Compare it to the statement “Socrates is wise.” Do we mean “God is wise” to mean the same thing as “Socrates is wise?” Perhaps, but clearly God’s wisdom is infinite, while Socrates’ wisdom is finite. Can the two things really be analogically or literally compared? Clearly we don’t mean that God is wise in literally the same sense as we mean Socrates is wise. The content, level, etc. of God’s wisdom is infinitely more/higher/etc. than that of Socrates. Such is one way to put the objection to human language’s ability to refer to the divine (Basinger, 245 [citing an argument from Frederick Ferre]).

These questions are quite basic to theism. If we can’t talk about God in meaningful ways, then assertions such as “Jesus Christ is Lord and Savior” are, quite literally, meaningless. Thus, it is essential for the theist to provide a defense for the belief that God can be referred to not just analogically, but also literally.

Interestingly, for a time, many theists asserted that we could refer to God only (or at least primarily) in analogical ways. They were able to defend an ability to refer to God utilizing analogies by acknowledging a “proper proportionality” usage of analogy. On this view (utilizing the example above), we mean both God is wise and Socrates is wise in terms of proportion to their properties and attributes. Thus, when we say “God is wise” we mean infinitely so, but with Socrates we only mean finite wisdom (Basinger, 244).

This sounds plausible, but it may not actually solve the problem. William P. Alston (who uses the term metaphor instead of analogy) argues that within metaphorical (analogical) talk about God, there is indeed some kind of literal application of terms to God. This is because:

1) When utilizing a metaphor (or analogy), the subject must be similar in some way or another to the exemplar such that the subject can be a useful model of the latter (Alston, 27). For example, if we were to say that x is y, that means that x is, in some way, like y. If we say “God is my rock”, that means that God is, in some way, like a rock (28).

2) If it is possible to form a concept of P, then it is possible to utilize language to talk about P (28). For any concept we can have, we are able to somehow utilize language to discuss that concept. The same is true. We can have a concept of God (even if it is horribly mistaken or if God isn’t real)–which means we can use language to talk about God.

But what about literal talk about God? Can we refer to God in literal ways? Take a well-known example: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” בראשׁית ברא אלהים את השׁמים ואת הארץ

This seems to be claiming something about God. He literally created the heavens and the earth. But can it really mean anything literally? Rather than trying to prove that such talk is literal, Alston sets out to show that there are no barriers to the claim that they are indeed literal terms (39 ff). Incorporeality, for example, is not a barrier to God’s literal actions because the concept of action doesn’t have anything that necessitates a physical body in order to perform action. Rather, action is defined as bringing about change by an act of will, decision, or intention (72).

He asserts that when claims are made about actions performed by God, they can be referred to as “basic actions.” A basic action is an action which is not performed by performing some other action (Alston, 55). In other words, if a young man moves a load of dirt from one place to another, this is not a basic action, for this movement is caused by the young man’s motion of his arms and legs (and so on). But, argues Alston, for God, many actions could be basic actions. God’s attributes of omnipotence, omniscience, etc. mean that for any action God wishes to perform, it could be basic (61). Not only that, but God could still choose to operate indirectly. Alston uses the example of God utilizing Cyrus to bring about freedom for the Israelites as an example of God’s using indirect action (62).

Thus, it seems that there aren’t any specific reasons to deny that God can indeed be referred to literally in action predicates. Similarly, if we can refer to God metaphorically with some kind of literal meaning, it seems as though we can know in some sense what it would mean to say that “God is loving.”

Another strong objection to human language and God is the idea of the infinite (briefly described above). If God is infinite, so the claim goes, then humans can’t know or talk about Him in meaningful ways. We can’t access the infinite. It seems to me as though analogical/metaphorical talk about God is one way to solve this issue (as above). But there are other reasons to think this fails as an objection. The primary reason, as I see it, is that God’s infinite attributes can be seen simply as properties. But it is indeed true that for any property, P, and any being, x, x either has P or ~P. So if God has omnipotence (P), it follows that we humans either have P or ~P (clearly the latter). However, if this is true, then the same objection to the infinite would apply to humanity, for ~P in this case is an infinite property.

This leads to another answer to such an objection. Perhaps omnipotence isn’t a property so much as something which entails a set of properties–specifically, the ability to do anything logically possible. This then assigns God an infinite list of properties, composed of phrases like, “Being able to bring it about that x.” This initially seems problematic, but then, by the rule set out above, we humans would also have either these properties or their denials. Thus, we have an infinite set of properties as well, most of which will be negative (for we are able to bring about some things). Thus, the argument falls apart on these grounds as well. It doesn’t matter if God conceptually or actually has infinite properties–this in no way forms a barrier to talking about or knowing God, because for any property God has, we humans have either that same property or its complement. Thus, we would also be infinite either positively or negatively.

Therefore, it seems to be quite clearly the case that we can indeed talk about God literally, metaphorically, and meaningfully. Not only do the objections to such talk fail, but there are also good reasons to think that we can indeed talk about God in such ways.

Sources:

Alston, William P. Divine Nature and Human Language: Essays in Philosophical Theology. Cornell. 1989.

Basinger, Hasker, et al. Reason and Religious Belief: An Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion. Oxford. 2009.

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